


Marooned

by Suryaofvulcan



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-01
Updated: 2007-01-01
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suryaofvulcan/pseuds/Suryaofvulcan
Summary: Trip and Malcolm's shuttlepod crashed on an uninhabited planet. Will they ever be rescued?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

1 *Only Water*

Itâ€™s only water, Malcolm told himself, trying desperately to keep Tripâ€™s nose and mouth above the surface as he kicked hard for the shore. You drink the stuff every day. Kick, kick. You bathe in it. Kick. Shower under it. Kick, kick. Only water. Kick. Rain from the sky. Kick. Perfectly harmless. Kick.

The shore was only a few hundred metres away; he could swim that far, if he had to. If he really, absolutely had to. As long as he just kept repeating his mantra, over and over: itâ€™s only water.

They had been about two thousand kilometres away from â€˜Enterpriseâ€™, out of sight but in touch via the comm, enjoying themselves, whizzing through an asteroid field and taking pot shots at the smaller rocks as they tested the new navigational array and its integrated targeting scanners, when suddenly a planet had appeared beneath them and the shuttlepodâ€™s controls had gone off line. Malcolm had barely had time to strap himself firmly into the copilotâ€™s chair, while Trip had done his best to wrestle the â€˜pod into a trajectory they had a chance of surviving. Malcolm didnâ€™t know how he had managed it, but Trip had crash landed in water, which had absorbed the momentum of the shuttlepod, but relatively close to the shore. Malcolm at least had come through the crash with just a few bumps and abrasions.

Trip hadnâ€™t been so lucky. He was alive but unconscious, a dead weight under Malcolmâ€™s arm, suffering at the very least from a blow to the head and probably a broken ankle. Malcolm hadnâ€™t had time to fully assess his injuries. In a way, that made things easier for Malcolm. Had Trip been conscious, he might have struggled, ducking Malcolm under and shattering his already shaky confidence, and had he been uninjured, Malcolm might never have found the courage to overcome his fear and enter the water in the first place. But he couldnâ€™t allow his friend to die, and heâ€™d been left with no choice but to get both of them out of the sinking shuttlepod and swim ashore.

He swam for what felt like hours, but finally his feet kicked against something solid. Relieved beyond belief, he stood up in the waist-deep water and hauled Trip up onto the pebbly beach, then, shivering slightly as the cool breeze hit his wet clothing, he shrugged off the backpack heâ€™d hastily packed with supplies and began to re-examine Trip for signs of life.

His heart was still beating, but somewhere during the swim heâ€™d stopped breathing. Malcolm sealed his lips around Tripâ€™s mouth and breathed into his lungs, then he turned him over and began to pump the water out of him, hoping he didnâ€™t have any broken ribs or internal injuries, stopping every couple of minutes to give him a couple more breaths.

â€œCome on, donâ€™t die on me now, you big yankee bastard,â€ he muttered, â€œnot after Iâ€™ve hauled your smelly arse all this way.â€

At last, Trip coughed once, and then groaned. â€œMal?â€

â€œThatâ€™s it,â€ Malcolm said, slapping his back, â€œget it all up.â€

â€œWhat happened?â€ Trip asked, between coughs.

â€œWe crash landed on water, remember? The shuttlepod sank.â€

â€œOh, okay.â€ Trip struggled to his knees, then fell back down again, gasping in pain.

â€œI think youâ€™ve broken your ankle,â€ Malcolm told him, digging inside the pack for the medkit. â€œIâ€™ll give you something for the pain, but then we have to move, at least above the tide line.â€

â€œRight.â€ Trip allowed Malcolm to press a hypospray to his neck.

â€œCome on, letâ€™s move.â€

Malcolm was concerned. Trip was uncharacteristically monosyllabic, and he still seemed dazed and confused. Malcolm had one meagre first aid kit, and no means to treat a head injury of any magnitude. All he could do was clean the wound, apply a bandage, give Trip a broad-spectrum antibiotic just in case there had been anything nasty lurking in the water, and hope for the best.

With Malcolmâ€™s help, Trip crawled slowly up the beach towards the trees behind it, and then he stopped, leaning breathlessly against the first one they reached.

â€œFar enough for ya?â€ he growled.

â€œFor now,â€ Malcolm replied evenly. He helped Trip out of the upper part of his sodden uniform, and then took one of the thermal blankets from its plastic bag and wrapped it around the manâ€™s shoulders, trying to rub some warmth into his limbs as he did so. â€œIâ€™m going to scout the area, look for some shelter,â€ he said. â€œThen, if I can find a couple of straight sticks, Iâ€™ll splint that leg of yours when I come back. Will you be okay here for a while?â€

â€œWhy not just â€¦ comm â€˜Enterpriseâ€™?â€ Trip said. â€œGet â€˜em to â€¦ beam us up.â€

â€œI tried from the â€™pod before it sank. No response. Either our comm was down, or there was interference â€¦â€

â€œWhat about the communicator?â€

â€œWaterlogged from our little dip. The backpack wasnâ€™t waterproof. It might work again once itâ€™s dried out, but I wouldnâ€™t bank on it.â€ He paused. â€œIâ€™ve activated the portable distress beacon, but â€˜Enterpriseâ€™ may not be in range.â€

â€œTheyâ€™ll come lookinâ€™ for us when we donâ€™t check in.â€

Malcolm sighed in frustration. â€œYes, but in the meantime, we might need to spend the night here. Iâ€™d rather scout now, in daylight, than wait until dusk.â€

â€œGo on then, mister boy scout. Find us a â€¦ nice hotel room.â€

Malcolm smirked, relieved that Trip seemed more like himself. â€œI wonâ€™t be long, I promise.â€ 

***

2 *Delirium*

â€œOkay, Trip,â€ Malcolm murmured, lowering the injured man to the ground inside the cave he had found a couple of hours earlier, â€œletâ€™s get you warmed up.â€

Tripâ€™s only response was a wordless grunt. Heâ€™d developed a fever at some point during Malcolmâ€™s recce mission, and all Malcolm could do when he returned was splint his leg and half drag, half carry him back to the cave.

Malcolm quickly built a fire and lit it with the phase pistol he had stuffed into their backpack before they left the shuttlepod, thankful that it still functioned despite its earlier dunking; he could light a fire by rubbing two sticks together if he had to, but it was time consuming and difficult, and he would much rather not. Then he sat down beside Trip and pulled him away from the cold cave wall and into his arms, wrapping the blankets around both of them.

Trip stirred, shivering. â€œMal?â€ he slurred, glancing up at Malcolm, his eyes glassy and unfocussed. â€œWhyâ€™re we â€¦ cuddlinâ€™?â€

Malcolm chuckled in spite of himself. â€œBecause I need to keep you warm. Remember your survival training? Weâ€™re sharing body heat.â€

Trip nodded unsteadily, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms tighter around Malcolm. Silence reigned for some time, broken only by the crackling of the fire and Tripâ€™s noisy breathing. Malcolm was almost sure Trip had fallen asleep when he heard him begin to mutter softly.

â€œWarm â€¦ nice â€¦â€ Malcolm strained to hear the words, aware that Trip was rambling, probably delirious. â€œCuddlinâ€™ Malcolm â€¦ just cuddlinâ€™, not kissinâ€™ â€¦ never kiss â€¦ mustnâ€™t â€¦ never tell him â€¦ love him â€¦ kill me â€˜f I did â€¦ nevernevernever kiss Malcolm â€¦â€

Malcolm froze as the full import of Tripâ€™s words sunk in. That Trip liked men as well as women wasnâ€™t exactly a surprise. Malcolm rather suspected heâ€™d been indiscriminately promiscuous in the past. But the fact that Trip â€¦ his friend â€¦ was attracted to him came as something of a shock. Malcolm had certainly never thought of Trip, or any other man, in that way. Heâ€™d always been orientated towards women. Not that heâ€™d had much luck in any of his relationships thus far, he admitted to himself.

He wasnâ€™t sure how to react. Trip was sleeping now, resting comfortably against Malcolmâ€™s chest, and he didnâ€™t want to let the man go, not while he was still so sick. But when he had recovered, when they were back on the ship, should he tell Trip that he knew of his feelings? And how did he himself feel? He supposed he should have been repulsed by the idea that another man found him attractive, but actually he found the fact that someone did â€¦ that Trip, his close friend, who knew him perhaps better than anyone, did â€¦ kind of flattering. Not that he would ever seriously consider a relationship with a man. Would he? He simply didnâ€™t know how he felt about this â€¦ about Trip.

But what he had heard were the delirious ramblings of a sick man. Trip probably wasnâ€™t even aware that heâ€™d said anything, let alone that Malcolm had heard him. Perhaps it would be better just to leave well enough alone, carry on as if nothing had happened, at least until they were back on the ship and things had returned to normal. And until he could understand his own feelings.

***

3 *Lessons in Survival*

â€œWeâ€™re nearly out of ration packs,â€ Malcolm commented, sorting through their supplies. On their third day on the planet, after Trip had managed to dry out and repair their scanner and Malcolm had determined that the local plant life wasnâ€˜t poisonous to them, they had begun to supplement their diet with fruit and nuts Malcolm had foraged from the surrounding woodland, but now, another two days later, the food he had grabbed from the shuttlepod had all but gone. It would only last another day at most, and then they would need to survive wholly on what they could scavenge from the forest.

This was going to be a difficult conversation.

â€œYeah,â€ Trip agreed, shifting uncomfortably as he moved his injured leg into a new position. â€œâ€˜Enterpriseâ€™ had better get here soon.â€

Malcolm resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was Shuttlepod One all over again. Thankfully, Trip had recovered quickly from his fever, but now his immobility and isolation were making him, to use his own word, cranky. And even after five days with no communication and no sign of either â€˜Enterpriseâ€™ or a landing party, Trip still held the unfailing belief that they would be rescued in a few hours. Malcolm had no idea why â€˜Enterpriseâ€™ hadnâ€™t come for them, whether there was a technical problem with the sensors, or a political problem with another species, or something else preventing them reaching the planet, but as the days passed, he was becoming more and more convinced they wouldnâ€™t be leaving any time soon.

â€œI think we should start making plans,â€ he ventured. â€œTrapping, hunting, stockpiling some food and so on. Weâ€™re going to need a supply of protein â€¦â€

â€œNo,â€ Trip said flatly. â€œâ€™Enterpriseâ€™ is gonna come for us.â€

â€œTrip, we donâ€™t know whatâ€™s happened to them,â€ Malcolm reasoned.

â€œCapâ€™n wouldnâ€™t leave us behind.â€

â€œHe may not have had a choice, Trip â€¦â€

â€œTheyâ€™re still up there!â€ Trip snarled. â€œTheyâ€™re lookinâ€™ for us, and theyâ€™re not gonna leave until they find us!â€

Malcolm sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face in frustration. Now wasnâ€™t the time to get into a fight. Besides, when heâ€™d gone out yesterday to collect firewood and fill their water bottles at the stream heâ€™d discovered a few hundred metres away, heâ€™d set a few snares, hoping to catch a couple of the small hare-like creatures that gazed at him curiously every time he left the cave. He would go ahead with his plan whether Trip liked it or not: the other man wasnâ€™t exactly in a position to prevent it in any case. He would make sure they survived. And Trip would come round, eventually.

â€œIâ€™m going to get water,â€ he said. â€œIâ€™ll see you later.â€

â€œYeah, okay,â€ Trip said, turning back to his work on the damaged communicator.

The sun warmed Malcolmâ€™s back as he headed for higher ground. From the top of the river gorge he could see for several kilometres in every direction. They had landed in a large lake rather than in the sea as heâ€™d originally assumed, and the deciduous woodland surrounding it stretched as far as the eye could see. There were no buildings, no roads, no structures, no signs of habitation. Thankfully, he hadnâ€™t seen any evidence of large predators either. In fact, the largest animals he had come across were the inquisitive little hares. 

The climate was temperate, so accidents and inclement weather aside, they were in no danger here. They could survive.

Malcolm returned to the cave just as dusk was beginning to fall, a brace of hares on his belt and the backpack, full of fruit and tubers, on his shoulder. Trip had moved during the day and was now sitting against the wall outside the cave mouth, his leg stretched out in front of him and the stout branch Malcolm had fashioned into a crutch at his side.

â€œHey,â€ Trip said by way of a greeting. â€œI see you got us some protein.â€ He indicated the hares.

â€œYes,â€ Malcolm said, trying to gauge Tripâ€™s mood, â€œany objections?â€

Trip shook his head, looking contrite. â€œLook, Iâ€˜m sorry about this morninâ€™. I was beinâ€™ an ass.â€

â€œYeah, you were,â€ Malcolm agreed, with a smile. They were going to be okay. â€œTrip, I agree with you. I donâ€™t think the captain will give up until he finds us. All Iâ€™m saying is, in the meantime, weâ€™ve got do what we can to survive.â€

â€œI know. It just â€¦ feels like givinâ€™ up hope, yâ€™know?â€

â€œAnd allowing ourselves to starve to death wouldnâ€™t be?â€

â€œI didnâ€™t say it was logical. Anâ€™ â€¦ I feel kinda useless, sittinâ€™ here while you do all the work.â€ He gestured in the general direction of his leg.

Malcolm grinned, dropping the hares down beside Trip. â€œWell, if you want to feel useful, you could skin these.â€

Trip picked them up, looking at them with frank distaste. â€œI wouldnâ€™t know where to start.â€

â€œHere,â€ Malcolm said, sitting down cross legged beside him and pulling out his pocket knife, â€œIâ€™ll show you.â€

***

4 *The Definition of Home*

Malcolm sauntered happily through the forest, collecting fruit and nuts from the trees and humming to himself as he checked the last of his snares. The day was warm, as were most days in this rustic idyll, and Malcolm had removed his shirt and stuffed it into his pack. A couple of weeks ago, a full six weeks into their exile, Trip had finally attacked their uniforms with his pocket knife, separating the top from the trousers and fashioning a pair of belts out of the sleeves of his shirt, growling that he was fed up having to tie the top part of the uniform around his waist. Malcolm had to admit the tailoring wasnâ€™t bad.

Heâ€™d started out on his foraging trip early that morning, and now that the sun had passed its zenith, he was on his way home.

Home. When had he begun to think of the small cave he shared with Trip as home? He hadnâ€™t given up on â€˜Enterpriseâ€™, but perhaps surprisingly for someone who had chosen to spend his life flying through space in a tin can, he was happy here. Heâ€™d always enjoyed camping out, fending for himself; it was the best part of being an eagle scout. And he wasnâ€™t completely alone here, although that would have been no great hardship. But Trip was good company, and if, inevitably, they rubbed each other the wrong way from time to time, it was easy enough to get away on his own for a while.

He crested the last hill and made his way down towards the cave, expecting to see Trip sitting in his customary spot outside, working on his latest project. Over the last few weeks, Trip had made several small tools and utensils from the driftwood Malcolm had collected from the beach, and more recently, using a small sharpened bone from one of the hares as a needle, he had begun to stitch some of the skins together to make a fur blanket.

But Trip wasnâ€™t there. Malcolm reached the cave and checked inside. It was empty.

â€œTrip?â€ he called, shrugging off his backpack. It was unusual for his friend to venture far from the cave. Tripâ€™s ankle had healed badly, and walking, especially on uneven ground, was painful and difficult for him.

â€œDown here!â€ Tripâ€™s voice floated up from below.

â€œWhat â€¦?â€ Fear clutched at Malcolmâ€™s chest, and he set off down the hill at a gallop. â€œDid you fall? What happened?â€

He reached the bottom, and stopped dead as he entered the small clearing at the bottom of the hill. Trip was stripped to the waist, on his knees, scooping dirt out of a hole in the ground. 

Trip stopped work and turned, getting up and limping towards him. â€œIâ€™m fine, Mal,â€ Trip laughed. â€œYou said this morninâ€™ weâ€™re gonna need a new latrine soon. I thought Iâ€™d make a start.â€

Malcolm couldnâ€™t help but notice the sweat glistening on Tripâ€™s golden, sun-warmed skin, his hairy chest and the way his muscles had moved as he worked. He supposed they both looked very different now from their previous neat, military appearance. Their hair had grown down around their ears, to the point where Malcolm almost wished his was longer so that he could tie it back, and while Malcolm was happy to shave with a bare blade, Trip now sported a full beard.

â€œGod, Trip, you scared the life out of me!â€ Malcolm said, as relief flooded through him. â€œYou didnâ€™t have to do that. I was going to start it in the morning.â€

â€œWell, now you can finish it in the morninâ€™,â€ Trip said. â€œCâ€™mon. Letâ€™s get cleaned up, and then we can eat.â€

***

â€œI wish you wouldnâ€™t do that,â€ Trip remarked later, as they were sitting by the fire eating their evening meal. Heâ€™d been unusually subdued since theyâ€™d returned to the cave that afternoon.

â€œDo what?â€ Malcolm said. He couldnâ€™t quite believe Trip was criticising his table manners.

â€œGet like you did earlier.â€

Malcolm stopped eating and stared at him. â€œLike what, exactly?â€

â€œJust â€¦ whenever you come back and find Iâ€™m not exactly where you expect me to be, you start actinâ€™ like Iâ€™m a little kid who canâ€™t take care of myself.â€

â€œOh,â€ Malcolm said. â€œIâ€™m sorry.â€ The truth was, he felt responsible. In the beginning, Trip had been pretty much helpless, and it had fallen to Malcolm to take care of him. Even now, more than two months later, because of his limited mobility, he still depended on Malcolm for food. It made Malcolm feel somewhat parental. And guilty. â€œI wish Iâ€™d done a better job on your leg,â€ he said at last.

â€œYou did your best, Mal,â€ Trip said, edging closer. â€œIt doesnâ€™t hurt much any more, anâ€™ I can get around well enough. Besides, Phloxâ€™ll fix me right up when we get back to the ship,â€ he added with a grin.

There it was again. The manâ€™s eternal optimism could be infuriating sometimes, but Malcolm had to admit he also found it endearing.

They ate in silence until Trip spoke again. â€œSo I was thinkinâ€™, if youâ€™re stickinâ€™ around tomorrow, maybe you could help me down to the lake, and I could do a little fishinâ€™. Maybe take a swim.â€

â€œSure, if you feel up to it,â€ Malcolm said, earning himself a glare until Trip realised he was being baited.

â€œSwimminâ€™ll probably be good for my leg, anâ€™ I guess Iâ€™d like somethinâ€™ to eat besides hare meat - not that Iâ€™m complaininâ€™ about what you bring home,â€ Trip added quickly. He paused, and then said quietly, â€œAnâ€™ â€¦ I noticed you donâ€™t seem all that comfortable in the water.â€

Malcolm had tried fishing once, wading out into the lake and trying to guddle for trout the way his father had taught him when he was a boy. Trip had sat on the bank, watching and making sarcastic comments while he whittled a piece of driftwood. He must have noticed Malcolmâ€™s extreme discomfort as he waded deeper.

â€œIt terrifies me,â€ Malcolm said at last, just as quietly, staring into the fire.

â€œWhich makes it all the more impressive that you pulled me outa the shuttlepod and swam ashore. That mustâ€™ve taken some guts, Mal. Iâ€™m grateful.â€

â€œThanks,â€ Malcolm said, reaching across and squeezing Tripâ€™s fingers.

â€œDâ€™you wanna talk about it?â€ Trip offered.

â€œNot really.â€

â€œOkay.â€ Trip yawned ostentatiously. â€œWell, I guess Iâ€™ll turn in. Gâ€™night, Mal.â€

â€œâ€™Night, Trip.â€

Malcolm stayed up long into the night, gazing into the fire and thinking about blond hair and golden skin, and about why he was so protective of Trip.

***

5 *Serpent in Eden*

Trip was getting worried. Malcolm had set out early that morning, as he did every few days, to collect birdsâ€™ eggs and gather more of the little pears of which Trip had become particularly fond. Usually Malcolm came back as soon as the sun began to sink in the sky, the bright blue of his uniform trousers easily visible against the predominantly green landscape. And he often hummed or sang as he walked. Trip smiled fondly despite his growing apprehension. He could usually hear Malcolm coming before he saw him.

In their twenty-two weeks of exile, Malcolm had never once returned after dark. But now the sun was dipping towards the horizon, and Trip, with great difficulty, had climbed to the top of their hill and was scanning the landscape.

At last he spotted movement, and a flash of blue. Malcolm was moving more slowly than usual, but he was heading home. Trip narrowed his eyes, trying to see Malcolm more clearly, wishing he had a pair of binoculars. It looked like â€¦ yes, Malcolm was staggering from tree to tree, and the backpack was missing. Then Trip watched in horror as Malcolm fell down and lay still on the forest floor. 

As quickly as his leg would allow, Trip stumbled down towards Malcolm, only stopping to retrieve the medkit from the cave on the way.

â€œMal!â€ he called as he neared the downed man. â€œMalcolm! What happened?â€

Malcolm stirred weakly at the sound of Tripâ€™s voice.

â€œOkay. Okay, Mal, Iâ€™ve got ya,â€ Trip said, kneeling down beside Malcolm. â€œWhat happened? Whatâ€™s wrong?â€

â€œMy leg,â€ Malcolm rasped. â€œSnake bite. Poison.â€

â€œOh, god.â€ Trip quickly examined Malcolmâ€™s leg, and found a large gash. â€œThis is one hell of a bite.â€

â€œI â€¦ opened the vein. Tried to â€¦ bleed out the â€¦ poison.â€

â€œAw, geez â€¦ Malcolm, what can I do?â€ Trip said, his heart pounding.

â€œTake me home,â€ Malcolm said plaintively.

â€œOkay,â€ Trip said, wrapping his arms around Malcolm. He could do this, for his friend, his companion, his love. â€œCâ€™n you stand?â€

â€œMaybe,â€ Malcolm said, making a Herculean effort to lever himself up off the ground. Trip held him up, slinging Malcolmâ€™s arm over his shoulders and somehow getting him up onto his feet.

The journey back to the cave was slow and torturous for both of them. Trip bore most of Malcolmâ€™s weight, and each step added more to the throbbing pain in his left ankle. But worse than that was Malcolmâ€™s shallow, raspy breathing and increasing weakness.

They finally reached the cave, and Trip laid Malcolm down on top of their fur blanket, wrapping him up inside it. Then he dressed the wound on Malcolmâ€™s leg and dosed him with the last of their antibiotic: if Malcolm survived the poison, Trip didnâ€™t want him to die from an infected wound.

Malcolm was shivering, yet beads of perspiration had formed on his brow, and Trip was going frantic. He felt helpless. The power supply in their scanner had given out weeks ago. He had no idea what kind of alien poison had entered Malcolmâ€™s system, and there was nothing in the medkit he dared use to treat him for fear of making things worse.

Trip spent the next two days sitting beside Malcolm, watching over him, keeping him warm and making him drink water and little sips of broth whenever he seemed lucid. The nights were the worst, when the firelight made Malcolmâ€™s face look like a death mask, pale and drawn, and Malcolmâ€™s breathing came in short, shallow gasps.

â€œDonâ€™t die, Malcolm. Please donâ€™t die,â€ he whispered softly, smoothing the manâ€™s sweaty hair back from his face.

â€œDoing my best â€¦ not to,â€ Malcolm quipped dryly, his eyes fluttering open.

â€œHey,â€ Trip said, smiling down at him, surprised that Malcolm was awake and talking. â€œHowâ€™re you feelinâ€™?â€ This was the first time in two days that Malcolm had seemed anything like his normal self.

â€œLike â€¦ death warmed up,â€ Malcolm said.

Trip fed him a few sips of broth, gratified that he seemed able to keep it down. â€œIs there anything else I can do?â€ he said, placing the cup back in its place beside the fire.

â€œJust â€¦ hold me,â€ Malcolm whispered.

***

Malcolm woke, his eyes sliding open as he realised he was resting against warm, living flesh, and a pair of strong arms was holding him tightly. He slowly stirred and lifted his head, gazing up to meet anxious blue eyes.

â€œHey,â€ Trip said, his hands making slow circles on Malcolmâ€˜s back. â€œYou feelinâ€™ any better?â€

â€œMuch better,â€ Malcolm said, making no move from where he was lying reclined against Tripâ€™s broad, solid chest.

â€œIs this okay?â€ Trip said softly, shifting a little as he tightened his arms around him.

â€œItâ€™s fine,â€ Malcolm responded automatically. Then he smiled, deliberately reaching up to catch Tripâ€™s hand and entwining their fingers. â€œIn fact, itâ€™s better than fine. Itâ€™s lovely.â€

He brought their joined hands up to his lips and gently, but unmistakably, kissed Tripâ€™s knuckles.

Tripâ€™s eyes widened in surprise. â€œMal?â€ he said, his voice barely a whisper above the crackle of the fire.

For a few moments they simply gazed into each otherâ€™s eyes, Malcolm waiting, watching Tripâ€™s expression change from confusion to delighted wonder as realisation dawned, watching his lips part in anticipation, until at last Malcolm reached up behind Tripâ€™s neck and drew the man down into their first kiss.

It was strange and wonderful; warm, gentle, chaste and tender, a wet press of lips against lips. Malcolm stroked the soft hair at the back of Tripâ€™s neck and probed gently with his tongue, and Trip sighed softly in surrender as he parted his lips. Carefully, they tasted each other for the first time, tongue tips meeting and touching, flicking and stroking, and Malcolm closed his eyes, relaxing further into Tripâ€™s embrace as they shared this one perfect moment.

At last Trip ended the kiss, gently pulling away and rubbing noses with Malcolm as he held him close.

Malcolmâ€™s mouth curved into a slow grin as he reached up and stroked one finger along Tripâ€™s cheek. â€œIâ€™ve never kissed someone with a beard before,â€ he said.

Trip chuckled softly. â€œDid you like it?â€

Malcolm pursed his lips. â€œIt was different, Iâ€™ll say that much.â€ Then he smiled. â€œYes, I liked it very much.â€

â€œGod, Mal,â€ Trip murmured, â€œIâ€™ve wanted this for so long, but I never dared hope youâ€˜d â€¦â€

â€œI know, Trip,â€ Malcolm said softly, gazing sincerely into his eyes, â€œIâ€™m sorry I made you wait so long. I needed to be sure. Weâ€˜re all alone here â€¦â€

â€œYouâ€™re sure now?â€ Tripâ€™s voice betrayed his returning anxiety.

â€œYes, Trip. Iâ€™m sure.â€

***

6 *Two Lives*

Malcolm sat on the lakeshore, gutting and cleaning the fish Trip had caught for them that morning. The afternoon sun was warm, and Malcolm had stripped down to his threadbare blue briefs as he worked, enjoying the sun on his back and the sight of Trip, as naked as the day he was born, swimming and playing in the water.

Theyâ€™d been lovers for many weeks now, lying at night in each otherâ€™s arms, kissing and touching, exploring each otherâ€™s bodies and pleasuring each other with their hands and mouths. It had felt strange at first, making love with someone who had more body hair than he did. And who was very definitely male. But Malcolm had quickly learned to enjoy running his hands over Tripâ€™s lean, well muscled form and the feel of Tripâ€™s soft, hairy beard in all his most sensitive places, and last night, as he accepted Trip into his body for the first time, heâ€™d accepted him into his heart, and thought about how close heâ€™d come to not having this moment, this love.

The old Malcolm, the one who had sunk to the bottom of the lake with the shuttlepod, would have rejected this, he was sure of that now. Had he discovered Tripâ€™s feelings for him while they were back on the ship, he would have sought refuge in the command structure, in ranks and regulations, in propriety and protocol. He might even have sought to reinforce his masculinity by bonking the nearest willing female crewmember. Or alien. He would certainly have denied himself the opportunity of this deeper feeling.

But here it was just the two of them, and between Tripâ€™s initial injuries and Malcolmâ€™s superior survival skills, the command structure had quickly disintegrated. They depended on each other, cared for each other as never before, and their friendship had grown into a stronger, deeper bond. That, and his near-death experience after the snake bite, which had brought home to Malcolm just how fragile their lives were even in this relatively benign environment, had taught him to finally accept the love he was offered.

He glanced out over the lake again, watching Trip dive under the surface, resisting the urge to call to him to be careful. Perhaps, he thought, being stranded here for the rest of their lives wouldnâ€™t be such a bad thing.

Eventually Trip dragged himself out of the lake, flicking water playfully at Malcolm as he walked up the beach and settled himself beside him on the grassy bank. Tripâ€™s mobility had improved somewhat since he had begun to swim regularly.

â€œDid you bring any pears?â€ he said hopefully, opening the hareskin bag Malcolm had packed that morning.

â€œNo,â€ Malcolm replied. â€œTheyâ€™re getting harder to find. I think they might be going out of season.â€

â€œGuess Iâ€™ll just have to wait â€˜til next year, then,â€ Trip shrugged, helping himself to a hard-boiled egg and shucking the shell.

Malcolm glanced at him curiously, but refrained from commenting.

Trip stretched out along the bank, allowing the sun to warm his limbs. â€œYou sure you donâ€™t wanna take a swim?â€ he said. â€œI could stay right beside ya, in case you got in trouble â€¦â€

â€œI can swim fine, Trip,â€ Malcolm said, a little tersely. â€œItâ€™s a phobia; an irrational fear of drowning. It has nothing to do with how well I swim. I just donâ€™t like being in the water.â€

â€œIâ€™m sorry,â€ Trip said, after a short pause. â€œI guess I donâ€™t really understand.â€

Malcolm let a smile pull at his lips. â€œI hope you never do.â€ He turned back to his work, wrapping the fish in the wet hareskin heâ€™d prepared earlier, ready to take back to the cave. Then he glanced over at Trip again, thinking about something the other man had said. â€œYou havenâ€™t talked about getting home for a long time,â€ he broached, carefully.

Tripâ€˜s eyes flicked open, and he gazed thoughtfully up at Malcolm, reaching out to entwine their fingers. â€œâ€™Cause I have everything I need right here.â€

They were so lost in the moment that at first neither of them heard the low hum of an engine descending from high above them. It wasnâ€™t until a shadow fell across them that Malcolm finally tore his gaze away from Tripâ€™s eyes and looked up.

â€œTrip,â€ he said softly, â€œitâ€™s a shuttlepod. Bloody hell, itâ€™s a shuttlepod!â€

***

7 *A New Dimension*

â€œWell, despite your ordeal, you both seem to be in remarkably good health,â€ Doctor Phlox pronounced. â€œLieutenant Reed has some residual poison in his system,â€ he continued, turning to the captain, â€œundoubtedly from some kind of ground-dwelling reptile, but it is dissipating on its own. And I will need to replace Commander Tuckerâ€™s left ankle with an artificial joint if he wishes to have full use of it again, but thereâ€˜s nothing that requires immediate medical attention.â€

â€œDoes that mean we câ€™n go back to our quarters?â€ Trip said, glancing at over Malcolm, who was sitting, dangling his feet, on the adjacent biobed.

They were both feeling a little overwhelmed. Malcolm hadnâ€™t fully taken in the captainâ€™s explanation of what had happened to them, or why it had taken â€˜Enterpriseâ€™ two hundred and forty-nine days to finally come to their rescue. Apparently it had something to do with their shuttlepod falling through a dimensional rift, a fair amount of diplomacy, and eventually a joint effort by Human, Vulcan, Andorian and Kreetassan scientists to find a way to stabilise the rift long enough for a second shuttlepod to pass through and retrieve them. Surprisingly, he found he wasnâ€™t all that interested in the details.

After so long by themselves, it felt very strange to be among so many people again. By the time the captain, Tâ€™Pol and Lieutenant Gwen Li, who had been acting as chief of security while Malcolm was missing, had reached them on the lakeshore, they had found some clothes and made themselves decent. Then, after an emotional reunion, Trip and Malcolm had returned to their cave one last time to collect some of their home made tools and utensils, and their fur blanket. They knew such things would be useless on â€˜Enterpriseâ€™, but Malcolm at least wanted a reminder of this place where he had learned to be happy.

And right now, he was simply trying to work out how he felt about finally being rescued. He had all but resigned himself to sharing a rustic life with Trip, had even begun to look forward to it, but now he was faced with the daunting prospect of readjusting to his old life back on â€™Enterpriseâ€™. How would their relationship work now that they were back on he ship? And how would he cope with people again after so long in isolation?

â€œWell,â€ the captain said, breaking into his thoughts, â€œsome of the crew have organised a little welcome home party in the mess hall, if youâ€™re feeling up to it.â€ Malcolm could hear the hopeful note in his voice.

No time like the present, Malcolm thought to himself. â€œOf course, Captain,â€ he said.

â€œYeah, sure,â€ Trip said, somewhat reluctantly Malcolm thought. â€œMind if we go and change into somethinâ€™ a little more suitable first?â€ He indicated their ragged uniforms.

â€œI think that would be a good idea,â€ the captain agreed.

***

The party wasnâ€™t too bad. It was rather noisy, and their new uniforms were decidedly scratchy and uncomfortable after spending so many months largely naked. Malcolm noticed that Trip stuck close by his side, but it was gratifying to see how much everyone seemed to have missed them. Hoshi complemented their longer hair, now tied back and braided, and she touched Tripâ€™s beard, wondering aloud if he would keep it now that he was back. Travis shook both their hands wordlessly, and then hugged them, tears brimming in his eyes.

But after about an hour, once they had greeted and had short conversations with everyone, the noisy chatter and the crush of people became too much and they politely retreated.

â€œWell, I guess this is it. Your quarters,â€ Trip said as they stopped at Malcolmâ€™s door. Malcolm thought he seemed a little nervous.

â€œYes,â€ Malcolm said. â€œItâ€™ll be hard to get used to sleeping in a bed again.â€

â€œYeah,â€ Trip agreed. He paused, glancing in both directions along the corridor. It was empty. â€œLook, Mal,â€ he said quietly, â€œI know things are gonna be different now weâ€™re back. And I â€¦ well, Iâ€™ll understand if you donâ€™t wanna be with me any more.â€

Malcolm simply stared at him for a moment, realising as he did so that Trip was expecting the old Malcolm, the one who was more concerned with rules and propriety than his own happiness, to resurrect himself. But that Malcolm had drowned in the lake, and the new Malcolm was determined he would stay there, along with the downed shuttlepod. For once, he hadnâ€™t allowed his fear to prevent him plunging into the unknown, and he wasnâ€˜t about to lose what he had found. He hadnâ€™t even thought about ending things with Trip. Heâ€™d reached a decision, weeks ago, on the planet, and what they had, what they had become to each other, was far too precious to simply let go. Without breaking eye contact with Trip, he keyed his personal code, and as the door swooshed open, he took Tripâ€™s hand an pulled him inside.

â€œCome here,â€ he whispered, pulling Trip into his arms. â€œI donâ€™t want this to end, Trip. I never want it to end.â€

â€œOh, Mal â€¦â€ Trip murmured, before he was silenced by Malcolmâ€™s kiss.

They kissed for a long time, but at last they parted and rested their foreheads together, each sporting a silly, relieved grin. After a few breathless moments, Trip reached up to toy with Malcolmâ€™s zipper, but Malcolm caught his hand, stalling the movement.

â€œWhat â€¦?â€ Trip said, his brow furrowing in a frown. â€œI thought you wanted this?â€

â€œI do,â€ Malcolm assured him quietly, â€œbut I think weâ€™d be more comfortable in your quarters.â€

â€œOh. Why?â€

â€œBecause you have our fur blanket.â€

 

THE END


End file.
